Retribution

by T. K. Walls

  “Why Detective Connard?” Emily shouted at him. “I get why you cared about Rachel and even Stephanie and Elizabeth, although you obviously didn’t care enough to be a part of their lives before they died!”

  Seth laughed. “Why Connard? Because I felt like it, and it was easy. In a nutshell, that was the reason. Counselor, you aren’t as observant as you think you are. Before I became the sheriff here, I worked with Connard. I was one of the hundreds of detectives in Boston. The fat fuck actually thought I was going to hire him. You did, however, accidentally stumble across him on the beach. That was perfect. I couldn’t have planned that one better.”

  “I knew you?” Emily stammered.

  “The evidence you suppressed that would have exonerated James was collected by me,” he said.

  Finally, a look of understanding or recognition came over Emily’s face.

  “Sheriff, or Seth, listen to me,” said Eric. You said yourself that Rachel was friends with Emily. You claim you loved her and that you are doing this out of some type of obligation you feel.” Eric believed he had one shot to save them. He had to reason with this guy. Otherwise, they would both be killed. “Come on, Sheriff. If you knew Rachel, you would know she wouldn’t want this. She wouldn’t want Emily to suffer.”

  “You are right about one thing, Eric. Rachel wouldn’t want Emily to suffer.”

  Emily exhaled in relief. The early-morning light was seeping through the cracks of the windows, and for the first time since she’d left her office the evening before, she felt as if she would survive and have one hell of a story to tell. She turned to look at Eric just as she saw Seth level the gun toward her and heard Eric stammer.

  Before she could react, Seth pulled the trigger, killing her instantly. Turning to Eric, he said, “She didn’t suffer.”

  The sound was deafening. Eric was shocked at how loud the shot was. He couldn’t breathe. Emily was slumped forward in the chair. Blood oozed from her forehead and ran down her face, dripping onto the floor next to her chair. Yelling, he finally looked away from her. “You sick fuck! Do you really think this is going to change anything?”

  Seth shook his head at Eric. “You still don’t get it, do you? This isn’t about changing anything. This is about retribution.” With each additional word, Seth raised his voice. “This has never been about change! I don’t have time to play with you anymore, Eric. I have a flight to catch and a monsignor to meet.”

  “He will kill you!” Eric shouted. “Wait, what you are doing?”

  Seth walked to the back of the tub. “You noticed you are sitting on a metal chair in a groomer’s bathtub? You see, Brad died in a fire, just like Rachel and the children. You are going to die in this tub.” Seth turned the water on and watched as the tub began to fill. Taking a thick, black electrical cord from the fuse box, he placed it in the tub.

  In his attempted to get up, Eric fell on his side, still strapped to the metal chair. “You’re crazy!” he screamed at Seth. “You won’t get away with this!”

  “You’re going to want to watch this,” Seth jokingly said to Eric as he plugged the cord into the outlet. Eric screamed as the cord became a live wire and the water trickling into the tub became the current of electricity. Just before Eric stopped screaming, Seth doused the old shanty with gas and watched it burn. When he was satisfied that Eric was dead, he got back into the cruiser and left for the airport. He had a flight to catch.

  FOURTY

  HE BARELY MADE HIS FLIGHT. He was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to get through airport security. Then again, it was a nonstop international flight out of Boston to Copenhagen. Once he was on the plane, he settled back in his seat and allowed himself to relax. He was exhausted. For the first time in days, sleep came easy.

  “Put your tray tables in the upright position, and secure all personal belongings under the seat. Please make sure your seat belts are fastened.” He woke up to the automatic announcement. The flight was about to land. Looking out the window, he felt calm, almost satisfied.

  It was late fall, and northern Europe was more than chilly. It was downright freezing! His last conversation with Monsignor Tedesco had been just a few hours before takeoff. His flight had been delayed a bit. If he missed the deadline, not only would he fail in bringing final retribution to those who needed it the most, but people who had suffered years ago—other innocents who had died and lost everything, whose families were still waiting to get back their loved one’s property—would continue to suffer. This last kill was more than getting vengeance; it was about making things right. He was the only one who could make it right. Failing wasn’t an option.

  “Flight delayed due to air traffic congestion, just landed” was the text message he fired off to Tedesco once the plane landed.

  “Meet at hangar B12,” responded Tedesco via text.

  The VS nerve gas was placed inside tiny breakaway pill containers. Each “pill” had been molded into an oblong tablet, and to ensure they didn’t accidentally break, they were placed securely in a pill box, which was placed in a plastic container. For the final part of his plan to work, the monsignor and his bodyguards would have to get close enough for him to break open the pill container and crush the tablet so he could gently toss it in the air toward his intended target. Only a small amount was needed to elicit the desired and almost immediate response: death. He had enough antidote in his pocket in case he accidently poisoned himself. Not that he would mind; if he died finishing this mission, he knew he would die successful. He couldn’t die without ensuring the monsignor was dead along with his remaining partners.

  The private hangars were not too far from where his flight landed. He quickly made his way out of baggage claim and briskly walked to B12.

  “Dr. Rivers? Is that you or Eric?” Monsignor Tedesco shouted at Seth as he was walking toward the hangar.

  Seth didn’t answer, instead raising his hand over his head as if to signal the monsignor. Seth knew how Dr. Rivers dressed, and he’d made certain he was dressed much like the doctor. He was wearing suit pants, a sweater, a blazer, and a black leather hip-length jacket with a scarf around his neck and lower face. Just like Eric wore when he flew, Seth was wearing a Boston Red Sox baseball cap.

  Before he could reach the hangar, Liam hollered for him to stop. “That will be close enough,” Liam said as he carefully walked toward Seth, followed closely by another man.

  Seth slowly raised his hand to the scarf and carefully positioned it over his nose and mouth. Under the scarf was a N95 one-way mask. Once the two men were a couple of feet away from Seth, he removed his left hand from his pocket, and in what appeared to be the initiation of a handshake, released the VS nerve gas. Liam and his partner stopped almost instantly. Both men grabbed at their throats. Foam began to bubble at their mouths, and blood dripped from their eyes and nose, and before the monsignor could see what was happening, the men fell to the ground. Seth stepped over the convulsing men and walked slowly and purposefully toward Monsignor Tedesco.

  “Stop!” ordered the monsignor. “Don’t come any closer.”

  Seth continued to walk toward him without answering.

  “Did you hear me? I said to stop!”

  “Monsignor Tedesco? I assume that is your name.” Seth finally stopped, but not before ensuring he was within range of releasing the gas.

  “You are not Dr. Rivers or Eric Wilkerson! Who are you? If you are here to try to bargain for more money, you will be disappointed. I am not prepared to part with any additional funds,” Tedesco firmly stated. He was not afraid of this American. He seriously doubted he would harm him, as his position with the Vatican made him a powerful adversary. “Perhaps I need to inform you of who I am?” Tedesco said while taking a step backward.

  “I know who you are, I know what you are, and, most importantly, I know what you are doing and what you have been doing. Do you really think that after all of this comes out, anyone will care who or what position you held? Other than the fact that you used that po
sition to profit from the suffering, torture, and deaths of millions?” Seth moved slightly closer to Tedesco.

  Tedesco asked him a second time, “Who are you?” This time his voice was shaky.

  “Who I am doesn’t really matter,” Seth managed to answer before Tedesco interrupted him with another question.

  “What do you want? Name your price! Everyone has a price! Including a nut job like you!” Tedesco nervously shouted. The hangar was empty, but Tedesco was hoping someone would hear them. He stole a quick look around the area and, seeing no one, took another step back.

  “My price is your death. It’s very simply, really. My price from you is the same price all the donors of your precious thievery paid. My price won’t reimburse any of them, but it will ensure that you and your partners no longer profit from the millions of dollars’ worth of stolen art, gold, and other artifacts and valuables that need to be returned to their rightful countries and families,” Seth said with a tight smile. “My price ensures the return of millions. Are you prepared to meet my price?” He very slowly began walking toward Tedesco. “Any last words, or perhaps a final prayer to your savior, Monsignor?”

  Tedesco finally realized he was going to die. He didn’t take Seth up on his offer of a final prayer or a final word. Instead he turned and tried to run. Seth was faster and stronger. He quickly caught the monsignor, and placing his hand over the other man’s mouth, he released the final dose of VS nerve gas.

  Seth’s mask was still in place. He was protected. He waited and watched Monsignor Tedesco die. He had successfully made his final kill.

  FOURTY-ONE

  THE OLD HOUSE GLISTENED IN THE MOONLIGHT. He knew this would be the last time he saw the house, the last time he could see where he had first met Rachel. He was no longer angry. The sadness and pain were gone. What was left was a feeling of emptiness.

  He had taken the photo from his foyer table with him when he kidnapped Emily and Eric. He kept it with him on the flights to and back from Copenhagen. Taking it from his pocket now, he looked at the two of them as children. After Rachel had died, this photo kept him alive and gave him purpose, and he dreaded the time when that purpose no longer existed. He had often wondered what he would feel once the pain and anger of his loss were gone. It surprised him that not only did he feel empty, he also felt a sense of freedom.

  “I had a feeling I would see you again,” Seth lightly laughed as he turned to greet his old friend.

  Ryan stood in the street in front of Seth’s childhood home. “Mac, or Seth, I’m not sure what to call you.”

  “Call me whatever name you like. I’ll answer you.” Seth had been standing on the front steps when Ryan came out of the shadows. “What are you doing here, Ryan?”

  “Well, Mac, it’s an interesting story. I did some of my own investigative work and found out who you are and where you used to live.” Ryan kept his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He didn’t think he would need it, but he had a snub-nosed .38-caliber revolver tightly gripped in his right hand.

  “And what did you learn?” Seth asked.

  “You were not easy to find, my friend. I only found you through Rachel.”

  Seth nodded. “Yes, I imagine that’s about the only way you or anyone could find me.”

  “I have a lot of questions, and I have a feeling you aren’t going to answer any of them. But I am going to ask anyway.”

  Seth nodded. “I will answer you. But I have a question first. Then I will answer yours.”

  “Go ahead, ask.”

  “How long do we have, Ryan? Did you notify the authorities that I’m here?”

  Shaking his head, Ryan said, “No, no, I didn’t. I may still do that. I haven’t decided. But I haven’t yet.”

  “What are your questions?” Seth asked.

  “I went through the history of this town. Your family owned quite a bit of this place.” Ryan nodded toward the old factory and house. “I noticed you still own all of this. Why have you kept these properties?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? You said you researched the history of the town. If you did your research, you should know that selling this place isn’t in my best interest.” Seth took a step closer to Ryan.

  “The missing children occurred when you were just a boy yourself. Are you telling me you had something to do with their disappearances?” Ryan slowly asked.

  Seth glanced down the street before answering. “Ryan, all I am going to acknowledge is that I learned at a young age that I had a talent and a hobby. I made a promise many years ago to ignore that part of myself, and I kept that promise until Stephanie died.”

  “How many people have you killed, Mac?” Ryan asked.

  “I think you have a pretty good idea how many, Ryan. Let me put your mind at ease. After I made my promise, I only killed people who needed to be killed and in a manner I felt was necessary. Dr. Rivers killed eight people, and of the eight he killed, six were children. Stephanie and Elizabeth were my daughters! I would have kept my promise to Rachel, all those years ago, to not kill again, but after Stephanie’s death, all that changed. Are you really going to stand there and pretend he was justified and I am not?” Seth felt the anger he thought was gone rising as his voice became louder.

  Ryan looked closely at Seth, and for a moment he saw his former friend in the other man’s eyes. Instead of being afraid of him or seeing him as a crazy killer, he began to feel a deep sorrow for him. “Mac, listen, I am sorry all of that happened. I agree, he murdered both of his families. I also know how horrible a death they each had. I can’t imagine how any of them felt, and I certainly can’t imagine the pain they suffered. I also know you spared me for some reason, and I don’t know why.”

  “I already told you, Ryan, I wasn’t going to kill a good man.”

  Ryan nodded his head in understanding. “One last question. Were you involved in the death of the priest in Copenhagen and the death of this partners? It’s all over the news that they were smuggling art and gold out of various places in Europe, and it’s speculated that Dr. Rivers and Eric Wilkerson were their pilots and partners. We both know each are dead, although Eric’s body hasn’t been found yet. In case you didn’t know, Emily Bridges is missing too. Her paralegal reported her missing yesterday.”

  Seth didn’t answer. Instead, he waited for Ryan to make the connection.

  “Mac, I made my decision. I am going to make a call. I have no choice. However, I do have a choice as to when I make that call. You’re going to leave. I don’t care where you go. I don’t care what you do. But you are leaving. If I have the slightest hint that you are killing, regardless of your rationale, I will go after you myself.”

  Ryan turned and started walking away from Seth, wondering if he would make it to his car alive. When he got to his car, he unlocked the front door and turned to look back at the house and at Seth. The front of the house was empty. No one stood on the steps, and the front doors remained closed. Ryan looked up and down the street but didn’t see Seth. He got into his car and let the engine idle for a few minutes.

  He wasn’t sure if his decision was the right one or not, but he knew that no one Seth had killed had been worthy of saving. He would keep his promise. He would watch and wait.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENT

  I want to thank Dr. C. Moma for his review and critique of Retribution. You inspired me to finish this project! Thank you so much!

  Copyright © 2019 T.K. Walls

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

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